


two suns, no shadow

by faintlight



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, He/Him Lesbian, Oral Sex, PTSD, Useless Lesbians, i'm sorry christy altomare, no period typical homophobia bc im gay and i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:45:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faintlight/pseuds/faintlight
Summary: Dmitri couldn’t remember a time before he lived on the streets.Anya couldn’t either.In which Dima has a big secret, and Anya has an even bigger one.





	1. there are no saints in petersburg

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically a retelling of anastasia the musical, except dmitri is the he/him lesbian he should've been the whole time and everything is gay

If there was a time before Dmitri lived on the streets, he couldn’t remember it. 

Not that it mattered. He’d never known a life other than the cold streets of Petersburg, and he didn’t need to. Once his father died, the gutter became his parent, his home. His life was about as comfortable as it got for a rebellious street rat in communist Russia. If Dmitri wanted luxury and three meals a day, he’d need to have been born a noble or swindle his way to the top of the food chain. Though Dmitri made it his job to forge and sell exit visas for others fleeing the country, he couldn’t breach the invisible wall that stood between him and a fulfilling life outside his homeland. While Russia was snow drifts higher than trees, fingers freezing in alleyways, stale hunks of bread dropping into empty stomachs, everything outside held the luster of places unknown, a warmth as though the sun shone differently outside the iron borders. 

When most people looked at Dmitri, they saw a hardened child of the gutter, a charming rogue. Inside, though, Dmitri contained multitudes of complexity. Though raised a girl, he felt more comfortable wearing trousers and short hair. But he wasn’t a boy. He knew when he looked at women that he was one of them. He couldn’t articulate that to anyone except Vlad, so he kept it under wraps. 

Though Dmitri played the part of the con artist to perfection, passing his days swindling and forging with Vlad made the work feel little more than subsistent. 

Until the rumor reached his eager ear. The whisper that the youngest princess of the overthrown royal family might have survived. Dmitri’s profiteering mind immediately whirred into action as he began plotting the best course of action to receive the handsome reward offered by the Dowager Empress. 

Vlad tried to talk him out of it. Leaving the country was beyond the risk of anything they’d done before. Even if they escaped with their lives, how could they be sure they could fool the Empress? He protested, claiming that it was all too risky. 

But Dmitri didn’t listen. When he got a scheme in his head, there was no stopping him. Before Vlad could get a single word in, Dmitri swapped a couple of cans of beans for a “Romanov” music box and began the search for willing Anastasias. 

\---------------------------------------------------

If there was a time before Anya lived on the streets, she couldn’t remember it. 

Not for lack of trying, though. She couldn’t even remember her last name. She knew nothing beyond the distant cold woods of Ekaterinburg and the orphanage where she had suddenly appeared. no family, no name, nowhere to go but onwards. 

Though most people looking at Anya saw a thin waif of a girl in too-big clothes, her long journey on foot hardened her into a tough fighter with her manners still intact. 

Life hadn’t been easy on Anya, but her unfailing faith in her lost memories pushed her on. She knew she belonged in Paris, but she had no idea why. Something waited for her there, something hidden in the white mist of her dreams. 

While sweeping the streets, an officer had approached her. He hadn’t given her his name or any identifying information, but from the too-familiar smiles he shot at her and his incessant requests for her to dine with him, she was sure his attention was of the unwanted kind. Anya shied away from any notice of men, much less officers. She made up her mind to get away from this man and this country as quickly as possible. 

Anya took the few rubles earned from street sweeping to purchase a train ticket out of the country. The clerk took one look at her hand, laughed in her face, and told her to get out of line and give up hope. 

But she persisted. She followed the advice of a passerby to find Dmitri, who sold travel visas for the right price. Anya wasn’t sure she had enough to pay for the “right price,” but she knew she could charm her way into a discount. 

\------------------------------------------

Anya pushed back a loosely-nailed board from the wall of an old, abandoned palace. The place didn’t look like much, but something about the rich wine red of the curtains and the low glint of the dusty chandeliers stirred something deep inside her. She was about to reach out to brush the debris from a painting when-

“Hey!” a harsh voice called out. “Who are you?”

Anya whirled around defensively, expecting a policeman or a soldier. Instead, she came face to face with an old man with a bushy beard, and a younger, rough-looking person, whose dirty yet distinguished clothes suggested that he was the man she was looking for. 

“Are you Dmitri?” Anya asked the younger one. 

“Who wants to know?” they countered, crossing their arms defiantly. 

“I’m looking for a travel visa and a ticket to Paris. I need to leave Russia.”

The person Anya assumed to be Dmitri scoffed. “We all need to leave Russia, sweetheart. what can you offer me?”

Anya felt herself flushing at this answer. She felt strange around this person, in a way she’d never felt before. The way his deep brown eyes peered at her made her heart beat a little faster. 

Anya dipped her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out the few rubles she had. She stammered, “it’s not much, but-“

Noticing her blush and the nervousness in her voice, the man chuckled and took a few steps toward her. His bearded associate stayed back, pushing up his glasses. “Now, now, darling, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You can call me Dmitri. this man here with me is Vlad. Who might you be?”

Anya straightened her spine in an attempt to regain her composure. “I’m Anya.”

“Anya…..” He gestured for her to continue.

"I don’t have a last name. Or, if I have one, I don’t know it. I don’t even know if ‘Anya’ is my real name.”

Slowly, Dmitri offered Anya a chair, then swung his legs over the sides of his own and crossed his arms over the back. “You don’t know your own name?”

Anya crossed her legs, then promptly decided against it, uncrossed them, and sat up straight in her chair. "I was found in the woods near Ekaterinburg as a child. I didn’t remember anything before I arrived there, so the orphanage gave me the name I have now and a roof over my head. Once I got too old to stay there any longer, I left the orphanage and walked here, to Petersburg.”

Vlad had just found another chair in the corner of the room and was bringing it to where Dmitri sat. Upon hearing Anya’s declaration, he nearly dropped the chair. 

Dmitri leaned forward on the legs of his chair. “Hold on- you walked from Ekaterinburg to Petersburg?” His mouth fell open. “How?”

Anya shot him a demure look. “It took a while, but I can handle myself just fine.” 

Dmitri scoffed, but then something seemed to occur to him. 

“So, little orphan Anya, you don’t remember… anything… about your childhood?”

“That’s correct,” Anya replied, pushing her hair behind her shoulders and smoothing her skirt. 

Vlad took a seat beside Dmitri and fiddled with his beard. 

“And all you want in the whole world is to go to Paris?”

“Yes. Well, to find my family there, but helping me get there would be much appreciated.”

Dmitri leaned over to Vlad and whispered something that was inaudible to Anya. Vlad’s face lit up. Dmitri stood and approached Anya. “Anya, have you heard of the princess Anastasia?”

Anya smiled. “Who hasn’t? the rumors about her are everywhere in Petersburg.”

“Well, don’t you think it’s funny how Princess Anastasia was last seen in Ekaterinburg, when she should have been killed, and you were found in Ekaterinburg around that same time. She would be about your age, and her only surviving family - the Dowager Empress - lives in Paris. Doesn’t that sound like an odd coincidence?”

Anya’s eyes widened. She took a few moments to put the pieces together for herself before responding to the man before her. Her voice shook as she came to the realization. “You don’t mean… … that I could be Anastasia?”

Vlad smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “Doesn’t every lost little girl dream of being a princess?”

Dmitri jumped in enthusiastically. “It doesn’t need to be a dream, Anya. You really could be the princess Anastasia! All you need to do is learn about her, and prove yourself to the Empress!”

“Prove myself?” It was Anya’s turn to scoff at an insane notion. “Why would I need to do that?”

“Well, they can’t just have any old street sweeper claiming to be the princess. The Empress has to be sure that you’re the real deal! If you know enough about Anastasia- about yourself, then you can find your family!”

Anya thought for a second as she weighed her options. If she said no, she might never be able to get to Paris and find the key to her past. If she said yes, she would get out of the communist hell Russia had become, but the whole situation could end up being a huge wild goose chase. How could she possibly prove she was a princess when the noblest thing about her was her dislike for stroganoff? But regardless, it was better than doing nothing. 

“I’ll do it,” she finally responded. “But… how do you become the person you’ve forgotten you ever were?”

Vlad took Anya by the arm and led her to the stairs. “That’s a question for tomorrow. Tonight, I will show you to your five-star room, and you can get a good night’s sleep while we prepare.” He jerked his head at Dmitri, indicating that he should prepare a room for Anya. She smiled politely at him, an unfamiliar feeling stirring in her chest at the sight of his dark hair falling in his face.


	2. nothing is as beautiful as something that you don't expect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitri almost makes a mistake. Anya almost gets caught. Vlad loses a sack of lentils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since i didn't say it last chapter, the fic title is from "Haled's Song About Love" from The Band's Visit!
> 
> this chapter's title is from "Something Different (Reprise)" also from tbv

Dmitri shook out an old sheet, folding it twice and laying it on the dusty floor of an empty room. The whole palace creaked and moaned around him, a rather on-the-nose analogy for the dwindling position that nobility held in the new Russia. He shook his head, still not really believing that they had found someone so convincing to play the part of the lost princess. 

Anya slowly stepped into the room, looking around gingerly. 

“Not up to your standards, princess?” Dmitri asked with a smirk. His heart skipped a beat at the way her large eyes blinked in confusion. 

“Well, considering the last place I slept was a cramped room with twenty other women and no bathroom, I’d say this is an improvement.”

Dmitri quirked an eyebrow. “A room! how fancy. I usually consider myself lucky if I can find a newspaper to pass out under.”

Anya snorted. “You say that as if I haven’t spent a good number of nights curled up under trees in the heart of winter.”

“No one said Russia was an easy place to live, Your Highness.” 

He flashed her a sly smile, disguising his hammering pulse. 

Dmitri passed Anya and left for his own room, right across the hall. Quickly shutting the door, he leaned his head back against it. Why was his heart racing so fast? What was it about this strange girl that made everything seem so different?

Dmitri was no stranger to romance and feminine charms. He’d had his fair share of girls on the street propositioning him, and plenty of experiences going home with the ones who didn’t want money. But almost all of his encounters ended shortly when the girl got past a few layers of clothing and realized that Dmitri wasn’t quite what they expected. Too many nights were spent being pushed out into the cold, with the door slamming shut behind him. These experiences had turned Dmitri off women, but Anya… Anya felt different. 

He sank onto his bed in confusion. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was finally getting out of Russia, and Anya would be helping them. He needed to focus all of his energy on that, not whatever feeling was stirring dramatically in his chest. He pulled off his vest, kicked off his shoes, and tried his best to sleep, thoughts of Anya still stirring in his head. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as Dmitri left the room, Anya shut the door and tried to lock it in vain - unfortunately, everything in this old palace was falling apart. Sighing, she left the door alone as she pulled off her too-large boots and unbuckled her belt. She wasn’t quite used to the privacy of her own room yet - she’d never had one, as far as she could remember. In the orphanage, she’d slept in a room of identical beds, filled with girls as young as newborns to her own age. The dormitory she’d stayed in while working as a street sweeper housed twenty other women, all filthy and exhausted from their laborious jobs. 

But here… all Anya had was a sheet on the floor, and it was somehow the most luxurious place she’d ever slept. She pulled the sheet over herself and turned to face the wall. Maybe she’d be able to get some sleep tonight. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“NO!”

The piercing shout echoed off the walls, pulling Dmitri to his feet before he even knew what was happening. He yanked open his door and tried to find the source of the noise. 

“No! Not again! Every night!”

The exclamations poured from the room across the hall. Dmitri dashed from his room, pulling open the rusty door to reveal Anya’s sleeping form, tangled up in her sheets, writhing in anguish. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” she cried again. 

Dmitri sighed with a mixture of annoyance and relief. A nightmare, that’s all it was. But how was he supposed to deal with this? He barely knew this girl! 

Still, if Dmitri wanted her help, she’d need to be functional. He knelt by her side and pressed a hand to her forearm. 

“Anya, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

Her arm flew out, catching him across the chest. Her eyes flew open and she shot up. She looked at him for a moment, confused, lucid. She blinked several times, then, apparently recognizing him, let out a soft breath. 

“Dmitri. I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she said, face flushing. 

“Are you all right? You seemed distressed,” Dmitri said calmly, stamping down the annoyance in his voice. 

“I’ll be fine. Please, let me be, I don’t want to create any more trouble for you.” Her cheeks flushed, and she drew her arms close. 

Dmitri nodded and stood up. “If you need anything, I’ll just… I’ll be right across the hall.” He stepped out, closing the door behind him. Once he returned to his own room, he sat down on his bed, once again, confused. 

How had this girl disarmed him so easily? He could usually keep his cool, act indifferent or charming, depending on what the situation called for. He should’ve been able to handle a simple nightmare. Who even was this girl? 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anya wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected in terms of food, staying with these two con men, but eating beans from a can at seven in the morning somehow wasn’t it. Over “breakfast,” Vlad explained the basics of what Anya would need to know for her role as Anastasia. 

The three of them made their way into a grand ballroom. Vlad flipped over a chalkboard, which was covered in a complicated family tree. “Now, Anya, this is where our lesson begins.”

From then on, Dmitri and Vlad taught Anya all she needed to know to become Anastasia over the next three weeks. She learned the complicated family history of the tsars, proper table manners, even how to waltz. Dmitri tried his best to teach her, but something about the falter in his step and the hesitation in his voice forced Vlad to take over the task. 

After a particularly stressful session of relentless nitpicking, Anya burst out at Vlad, “you’re the ones who don’t stand straight!”

Dmitri sneered. “It’s all his years of bowing at court!”

Vlad said defensively, “bowing is a sign of respect!”

Dmitri scowled. "I bowed for someone once.”

Vlad’s face lit up. “Aha! You see!”

"I was a boy, I didn’t know any better. That was the first and last time-“ He stopped short when he saw Anya perfectly execute a curtsy without any help. “Where do you learn that?”

Anya was just as confused as him. Where did she learn that?

Vlad said, bewildered, "I didn’t teach her that. She’s a natural!”

As her lessons continued, Anya felt that she knew more than what they taught her. She recalled Count Léopold before Vlad mentioned him, the proper etiquette for royal dinners when Dmitri was still covering drawing-room manners, a detail about her brother no one else knew - they all added up to something very strange. Vlad chalked it up to the diffusion of the royal family into public knowledge, but Anya couldn’t help but feel that there was something more to it. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Anya was an utterly hopeless dancer. There was nothing else to it. 

Dmitri knew how to waltz. Usually. But when he took Anya’s hand in his own, pressed his hipbone to hers, felt her breath on his cheek- all his knowledge and confidence melted away. She slipped a sarcastic remark into the space between their chests, and he barely had the brainpower left to react. He was used to playing the male part in dances, but Anya took charge and pulled his useless body around as he tried to stomp down his emotions. 

He’d never felt like this before. 

One evening, after Anya had aced a particularly difficult series of questions, Vlad congratulated her and tossed her the sack of lentils they used as a pillow for a reward. They all parted ways to their respective rooms at the end of their session, but Dmitri couldn’t shake Anya from his head. Sure, she was right across the hall, but there were other, more important things he needed to think about. How they would be able to pay for the train tickets, and how to keep abreast of the changes in exit visas and which trains let off in Poland and what Anya looked like as she slept and- damn it, how was he supposed to get her out of his head when she was just in the next room? 

Don’t let emotions cloud your judgment, Dima, his father had been fond of saying. Practice what you preach, huh, old man? Dmitri laughed bitterly, remembering his father’s tendency to let his political opinions get the better of him. At least I keep my head down, he thought. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Anya stood outside the door of the head officer in the police precinct, palms sweating. Two guards stood beside her as they waited for the door to open. Heavy boots thudded from inside the room and grew louder as they approached the door in front of Anya. The door promptly swung open, revealing the officer who had stopped Anya on the street weeks before. 

“Ah, Anya! do come in!” he said warmly, uprooting Anya’s expectation of a harsh confrontation. the guards left her side as the officer ushered her in. 

“I’m Officer Vaganov, but you can call me Gleb. Please, have a seat!” He led her to a seat in front of his desk. She sat obediently as he continued talking. Anya soon realized her mistake in complying, as Gleb stood several feet above her, increasing her anxiety. 

“Now, now, don’t be afraid! You’re only here for a friendly chat, don’t worry!” He smiled in a way that was probably meant to be friendly but came off as strained and suspicious. 

"I don’t mean to be rude, Officer Vaganov-“

“Gleb, please.”

"I don’t mean to be rude, Gleb,” her voice shook on the last syllable, “but I have a job to do, so if there’s no official reason for this meeting-“

“Oh, Anya.” He leaned across the desk, smiling at her. “We’ll get to that. But first, how are you?” She nervously tried to return the expression, resulting in an odd grimace. “Well, no matter. Anya, have you heard of the princess Anastasia?”

“Who hasn’t?” Anya laughed uneasily. 

“True, true,” Gleb chuckled. “Did you know, my father was one of the guards who were there the night the royal family… met their fate, so to speak.” Gleb’s eyes seemed to glaze over. "I saw the family as my father closed the gate. I heard the shots.” He drew in a shuddering breath. "I heard the screams.” 

Gleb shook his head. “My mother said he died of shame. but I know he did a noble thing for the cause. What’s troubling is that there have been… certain rumors as of late that the Princess Anastasia might still be alive. If that were true,” he rose from his desk and strode around, facing away from Anya. “She would need to be taken care of as expediently as possible, do you understand?”

Anya gulped. “Yes, offic- Gleb.”

Gleb turned on his heel and smiled at her. “Wonderful. you’re free to go now, just remember - make-believe has no place in our new order.”

Anya smiled. “Yes, well, every little girl dreams of being a princess.”

“Indeed. Be careful what a dream may bring. Don’t let that distract you from the work at hand.” He flashed her one last smile as she hurriedly slipped out the door. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri surprised himself by asking Anya to accompany him on his errands. Usually he worked alone - it was less risky, had fewer witnesses. But this time, having Anya by his side made him feel more confident, more self-assured, more... happy. 

As they visited various shops, Dmitri exchanged coded messages for scraps of information and rubles. On the way out of a store, he swiped a small bread roll and tossed it to Anya. 

“That’s illegal, Dmitri!” she protested. 

“And? So’s everything else we’ve done up to this point.”

Anya considered for a moment, then took a bite of the roll and tossed it back to him. They went on like this for a few minutes as they walked to their next destination, enjoying the pleasant evening, and each other’s company. 

Dmitri ducked into a darkened alley, pulling Anya behind him. This route was admittedly a little more dangerous, but it would get them back faster. 

“Hey, if it ain’t Dmitri!”

Dmitri’s head snapped around. Not far behind him stood a man he recognized: a fellow con man Dmitri used to trade with. The large man took a few steps forward, and Dmitri realized they were surrounded by five other men. 

“It’s been a while, ain’t it?” the man asked. 

“Who’s this, your girlfriend?” another one sneered, sizing up Anya. He reached for her arm, but she snatched it away and backed up closer to Dmitri for more secure protection. “Hey, don’t be rude, I’m just tryna be friendly, little lady-“

Before he could lay another hand on Anya, Dmitri punched him square in the jaw. Like clockwork, the rest of the men sprung into action. Three of them flew at Dmitri, swinging punches and trying to grab his arms. Two grabbed Anya, and he lost sight of her. Dmitri took one of them down with a solid punch to the stomach, but the other two were getting the better of him when Anya ran in from the alley, brandishing a heavy-looking stick. She chased them off with a frightening look on her face, and was about to run after them in a fit of rage when Dmitri grabbed her around the waist to stop her. 

“Hey - let me down!” she protested, fighting to break free from his grasp. chuckling, Dmitri set her on the ground. 

“That was impressive, princess. Where’d you learn that?”

“You don’t walk halfway across Russia without picking up a few things. I can take care of myself,” she said, smiling slightly. Dmitri picked up his bag, and they continued their walk, lightly joking about Anya’s fighting spirit.

“Hold on, I wanna show you something.” Dmitri led Anya out to a bridge above the Neva, looking out at the city. 

“Where are we?” Anya asked, peering over the edge of the bridge. 

“My father used to bring me here. You can see all of Petersburg from this bridge.”

“What was your father like?”

Dmitri was taken aback by the question, but pulled himself back together quickly. “He was… he was tough, and he wasn’t always the best father, but he taught me how to take care of myself, how to survive on the streets... he used to call me Dima.” A more feminine version of my name, he thought. “Then he was killed in a labor camp for his anti-revolution beliefs.”

“I’m sorry, Dmitri.” 

“It’s fine, it is what it is. Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to talk about my sob story. From up here, you can see the palaces, the gutters, the piers: Petersburg in all of its shame and glory. Hail our brave new land, and all that.”

“It’s a beautiful night,” Anya said absently, gazing out at the water. 

“It sure is,” Dmitri agreed, letting his gaze drift to Anya’s moonlit form. 

He felt the weight of the music box in his bag. He thought, if she really is Anastasia, she would recognize this, right? 

“Close your eyes, and put out your hand.”

Anya looked confused, but she complied. He slowly took the music box out of his bag and placed it in her hand. 

“Open.”

She slowly did as he asked. 

“It’s not… it’s not much, and I honestly think it’s broken. It won’t open…”

Anya lifted the box above her head and turned something on the bottom. The lid popped open, and a light tune began to play. Dmitri blinked, surprised. 

“How did you do that?”

"I don’t know… I just…” she trailed off, staring at the music box in her hand. 

“I-I know this song! I remember... I remember the men and women, in their suits and ball gowns... all of them dancing in the grand hall-“ she stopped suddenly. 

“Anya?” 

“I… don’t know what any of that was.” She slowly turned to Dmitri. “who am I?” 

Dmitri didn’t know how to answer. He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then turned back to the river. 

They both looked out a moment longer, letting the sun slowly slip away from them. Dmitri straightened, and began walking off the bridge. Anya looked a beat longer, then followed. 

Dmitri ran a hand through his hair as he walked. As Anya looked around like an excited puppy, he fretted about the cost of the train tickets. They wouldn’t have enough in time. There was no way around it. 

“Dmitri?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s on your mind?”

Dmitri sighed. There was no point in keeping his thoughts internal. “We don’t have enough money for the train tickets to Paris. We won’t make it in time at this rate.”

"I can try to pick up more shifts, earn a few more rubles, hold on- I think I have some in-“

Dmitri spun around and put his hand on her arm. A spark seemed to fly up through his fingertips, but he ignored it. “Anya, stop. It just won’t be enough. There must be someone else who can help you. I’m sorry.” He pushed her money towards her.

She shoved his hand away. “I don’t want your money.”

“It's your money!” Dmitri insisted.

“It’s our money!” Anya turned away. “I trusted you.”

“I said I was sorry,” Dmitri spat defensively.

She pressed her mouth into a hard line. Then, an idea seemed to occur to her. She slid a hand into her coat, and pulled something out. “Now it’s your turn. Close your eyes and put out your hand.”

Goddammit. “Anya-“

“Just- trust me. Please?”

Dmitri sighed, but he closed his eyes and extended his hand. He felt a slight weight, and opened his eyes once again. In his palm, he saw a small glinting jewel. 

“I… I didn’t want to do this until I was sure I could trust you. When the orphanage found me, this was sown into my underclothes. The nurses kept it from me until I was old enough. But… this diamond should be enough to cover the costs.”

Dmitri stared at her for a moment. He looked back at his hand. “How can you be sure I won’t just take this and run off?”

Anya gulped. “Because… I think you won’t. I think you have enough decency left in you to not betray me.”

Dmitri smiled slowly. Then he picked Anya up by the waist and swung her around. She let out a small shout, but grinned in return. He set her down, and they raced back to the palace to tell Vlad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on tumblr @ faintlight if you wanna talk about anastasia or anything gay!!


	3. the sound of longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitri realizes something. Anya has a problem. Vlad is just trying to keep up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter does include anya's panic attack and short, nongraphic descriptions of violence, so if that bothers you, read until after "we'll go from there"

Anya sat in her room the night before they left, passing the music box from one hand to the other. She felt shaky, nervous, elated, and wistful all at once. She’d lived in Russia her whole life (well, as much as she could remember), and now she was about to leave. But Paris - Paris! The city of her dreams! She smiled to herself and slid under the covers. Maybe the nightmares won’t come tonight, she hoped as she drifted off to sleep. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri couldn’t fucking sleep. 

He didn’t sleep that much anyway, but he needed to be well-rested for the journey ahead. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about everything that could go wrong on the trip (a habit he didn’t usually partake in), and how he was finally leaving this godforsaken city behind after so many painful years. 

Frustrated, he pulled the bandage that he usually kept wrapped around his chest and threw it to the floor, giving him room to breathe. Dressed in only an undershirt and long pants, he heaved a sigh of relief as he lay down on his bed. Maybe tonight he could sleep peacefully. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Anya sat bolt upright in bed, sweating and panting. She glanced around her, desperately trying to recognize her surroundings. Still in the palace, still in Petersburg, still alive. 

She stood shakily. There was no way she could sleep now. hand still trembling, she opened her door and padded across the hall to Dmitri’s room. She lifted her hand to knock, but she hesitated. What was she expecting? The snarky boy who couldn’t tolerate her enough to even look her in the eye, to comfort her after yet another bad dream? 

What else was she to do? Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she knocked twice. She heard a soft curse from inside the room, and heavy footsteps approaching the door. 

“What do you w-“ Dmitri began to answer, but his face immediately softened when he saw Anya. 

Anya’s mouth opened wide as her eyes traced down the unfamiliar shape of his now-exposed body. 

Dmitri flushed, then cleared his throat. Crossing his arms and blocking his chest from view, he said, “what can you possibly need at this hour, princess?” His bright eyes pierced her still shaken face, trying to assess what could be so important to have disturbed him at this hour.

Anya closed her mouth. “I… I couldn’t sleep, and well - I didn’t want to bother you, but - I just - I just wanted to talk.” 

Dmitri looked slightly bewildered by this, but opened the door wider and gestured for Anya to step inside. He led her to the edge of his bed, and they both sat down. 

“What’s on your mind, your highness?” Dmitri asked, his tone slightly mocking.

Anya made a face. “Oh Dmitri, drop it. can’t we be honest for once?”

“What does that mean, Anya?” All the annoyance and pretense from earlier had left his voice. Anya was suddenly uncomfortable. He’d never been this serious with her.

She felt her body go warm at the sound of her name on his tongue. "I mean,” she looked pointedly at his chest, “there’s clearly something you’re hiding from me.”

“What, this?” He gestured toward his chest himself. “You thought I was a man this whole time?”

“Well - I just assumed? You’re saying you… aren’t a man?”

“Me being born with - or without - certain… parts doesn’t necessarily make me a man, but you’re right. I’m not a man.” He looked Anya dead in the eyes, daring her to look away. She held his gaze. 

“No more than I am?”

“No more. but no less than you, Anya. No less at all.” Dmitri smiled. 

Anya’s hand crept closer to his on the bed. Tentatively, she slipped her fingers in between his. Instead of looking down in surprise, Dmitri curled his hand around hers and kept looking in her eyes, unflinching. 

Anya surprised herself by leaning towards him, her face tilting to the right almost unconsciously. he lifted his other hand to her cheek and began to close his eyes. Suddenly, as if coming out of a trance, he jerked his head back. Anya blinked in surprise. 

“Well, princess,” Dmitri got to his feet and strode to the door. “We should both go to sleep. tomorrow’s a big day.” Anya lingered on the bed a moment longer, still processing what had almost happened. Slowly, she rose, looking back at Dmitri, trying to catch his eye again. He stared at the floor, as though he was determined not to look at her. She sighed and left the room without another word. 

She closed the door to her own room and sank down to the floor. What did any of this mean? Dmitri was… like her? Dmitri had an interest in her? Something about the encounter stirred a familiar feeling deep inside her, like she’d felt this confusion before. It was all too much to handle. 

She pulled the covers up once again, and tried to sleep. 

\------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri pulled the visas from his pocket for the fifth time. He knew they were right, he knew, he’d done his research, but what if they weren’t right? What if they all got shot? 

The loud whistle of the train pulled him out of his thoughts. “One minute till departure,” a voice over the platform announced. Dmitri took one last look around at the city that had given him life, raised him, made him what he was. 

The city that had brought him Anya. 

He glanced behind him to make sure his companions were still with him. Vlad nervously pulled on his beard. Anya gazed into the sky, likely having the same thoughts as him. Can I really leave this place? he wondered. Can I really abandon all it has done for me without even a goodbye?

The train whistle blew again, and they hurried to their seats. As the wheels began to move, Dmitri whispered a soft, “I’ll never forget my homeland,” as he watched the hardy trees and still-frozen rivers fall behind them. 

\------------------------------------------------------

Anya had a lot of feelings stirring inside her. 

First, there was the incident with Dmitri from last night, which brought its own confusing mess of feelings and questions. Second, she was leaving Russia - leaving Russia! All the memories, good and bad (but mostly bad), all the lessons, and everything she could not remember. They all lived here, and she would be leaving them all behind without a single word. Finally, they were leaving illegally. They could be caught and apprehended at any moment! The anxiety, fear, joy, and confusion ran rampant through her body. She glanced at Dmitri sitting beside her, but he seemed equally lost in his (her?) own thoughts. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about last night. What he said, what any of it meant, what happened, what didn’t happen, these new feelings blooming in her chest, and-

The train stopped. 

Shouts echoed from the last car. 

Three shots fired in quick succession. 

And then Anya couldn’t see the train, couldn’t see the people beside her, couldn’t see the countryside around them. All she could see was the blinding white snow, the stark contrast of the wet red blood in harsh splatters. The screams of voices she knew so well, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the hard ground. She was shaking, shaking so hard she couldn’t feel her own heartbeat. Anya pulled her hands from where they clutched her chest, and her vision swam red with blood. She was cold, so cold, and it was so so dark. 

And then a warm arm wrapped around her. A quiet shushing noise, a soft touch to her hair. She breathed, and breathed, and felt her heart again. Saw the train. Saw the strong arms holding her. She looked down at her hands again, but they were pale and clean. Dmitri hissed commands to Vlad as he kept comforting her, and whispered softly in her ear. 

“It’s going to be alright, don’t worry, it’s ok, just breathe, just breathe.”

Vlad hurried up to them, his face creased with worry. "I don’t mean to alarm you two, but we appear to have the wrong color of visa.”

Dmitri hissed a quiet shit, and helped Anya to her feet. 

“There’s nothing else we can do. We have to jump.”

“Jump? And then what?” 

“We walk. All the way to Germany, if we have to.”

Vlad shook his head, but edged closer to the side of the train. 

“Get ready,” Dmitri whispered, grabbing Anya’s hand. 

“On three. One, two-“

They jumped. 

And then all Anya saw was green as she flew through the air and hit the ground in a fetal curl. She rolled and rolled, and then stopped. Slowly picking herself up, she noticed bruises forming all along her body. Glancing over to the other two, they seemed to be in similar conditions. But still, all alive. 

Dmitri looked at her and grinned crookedly. She felt her face flush, and slowly smiled back. 

And they began to walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #getdmitriabetterbinder1k927
> 
> find me on tumblr @ faintlight! thank y'all for reading and leaving kudos it means the world <3


	4. i'll bless my homeland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitri ruminates. Anya remembers. Vlad meets an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is fun love that mutual pining

Every bone in Dmitri’s body hurt. 

He was lucky he hadn’t broken his ribs or smashed his spine to bits, but still. 

It didn’t help that his heart was aching, too. 

Walking beside Anya for hours was torture. He kept running over the night before in excruciating detail. God, why had he almost kissed her? Why hadn’t he kissed her? Why did he butcher any kind of explanation? She probably thought he was some kind of freak! 

He tried his best to wipe the thoughts from his mind, and tried to tune back in to what Vlad and Anya were discussing beside him. Vlad kept critiquing her walking form, and Anya argued that there was no way a princess living in hiding all these years would have perfect posture. Dmitri smiled slightly, always charmed by her indomitable spirit. 

“What do you think, Dmitri?” Anya's bright, clear voice took him by surprise. 

Not prepared to play referee in their argument, he cleared his throat. “Is this just an excuse to keep your undignified slouch?”

She pouted and elbowed him in the arm. He winced, feigning injury, and she fake-scoffed. Vlad continued questioning her, and the trio walked on. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

After what felt like a thousand miles of walking, dirt roads in a bumpy bus, and a day of rocking back and forth on a cargo ship, Anya stepped into the land of her dreams. 

Probably. 

Vlad said it looked just like Russia, but warmer. Anya decided he wasn’t entirely wrong, but there was just something about the air in France that felt different. 

Anya felt like she could finally free herself. 

They continued down a dirt road that was supposed to lead them to Paris. Anya couldn’t stop gazing at the trees, the flowers, the people passing by. Everything seemed so much more colorful, so much happier. Every so often, she glanced at Dmitri, but he quickly turned his head as if he’d been looking at her instead of the scenery. 

And then, after about a mile of walking, she saw it. 

The tip of the Eiffel Tower was starting to appear over the hill. 

Anya's eyes filled with tears. She had waited so long for this moment, had suffered through so many hard days, so many cold nights, so much work and pain and sweat, and here she was. In the city of her dreams. 

She almost couldn’t believe it. 

Dmitri and Vlad continued down the hill, but Anya paused for a moment to take it all in. Her heartbeat felt like it would burst from her chest at any moment, and she prayed she still had the strength to make it into the city. 

Her mind swirled with a similar mix of emotions as she had felt at the start of her journey. But this time, she felt joy, wonder, disbelief, amazement, and a solid helping of fear. So many doubts crept into her mind. What if all of this was for nothing? What if she didn’t find her home, her family here? What if a journey to find her past ended in more blank pages that she could never fill? 

“Anya! Come on!” Dmitri called from the other side of the hill. 

Anya smiled softly, shaking off the doubt. She picked up her suitcase, and headed down the road to her future. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri didn’t know what to think. It felt like every feeling he’d ever had swirled in his head at once, confusing him to the point where he couldn’t even think clearly. The exhaustion from days and days of rough travel, the mere feet between him and Anya the entire trip, the realization that he’d finally left his homeland, the fear and expectations of what he might find in Paris... It was all too much to process. 

Anya seemed to be having similar thoughts as she stared into the Parisian night. Vlad pulled them both along, laughing and extolling the virtues of Paris (and its women) as he led them to their hotel. They had made it, and they should celebrate!

As soon as they reached their rooms, all three of them collapsed, exhausted from the journey. 

Dmitri crawled into bed, but he couldn’t sleep. All his body wanted to do was shut down for as long as possible, but the knowledge that Anya was right there, just a thin wall away, kept him up. She remained a mystery, despite the long hours they’d spent in close proximity. What did she really think about him? About everything he’d tried and failed to present to her?

Eventually, his body won over, and he slept. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite her fatigue, Anya couldn’t sleep once the sun rose. When the strong beams of Parisian light came streaming in through the window, she had to get up. 

Anya quietly slipped into their shared bathroom, washing her face and brushing her hair before pulling on her nicer clothes, a white blazer with a matching skirt. She left the hotel as the sun was still rising. 

In the street, Paris was just beginning to wake up. People pushed open their windows, shopkeepers rolled up their doors. The scent of baking bread filled the air. Anya felt like she was in a movie. 

A memory flashed through her mind. 

A woman, holding something. Whispering to Anya about a bridge in Paris. Alexander, the woman said. Alexander. 

Anastasia’s grandfather, Anya remembered from her lessons. 

She stopped a passerby, and pulling her far-off knowledge of French from the depths of her mind, asked where the Alexander Bridge was. They pointed her off towards the heart of Paris, and Anya made her way to her past. 

The bridge was... Well, it was a bridge. Nothing spectacular, but it felt special. A little piece of Russia here in Paris. Anya smiled with the familiarity of an old friend. She felt as though everything was changing, as though her very life itself was crossing a bridge. As she watched the boats sailing along the Seine, she felt a deep sense of kinship to this place. To this city she’d been reaching for her whole life, as far as she knew. But it just- it felt as though something was missing. Like someone was missing. But who?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri was the happiest- and cleanest- he’d been in the last year. A real bath! Paris really was the city of dreams. As he soaked in the warm water, relishing in every slide of the soap along his skin, his thoughts returned to where they always seemed to return these days- Anya. When he woken up, her room was empty. He assumed she was off exploring the city, but he couldn’t help worrying. She can handle herself, he reminded the anxious voice in his brain. She’s lasted this long. 

Satisfied with his cleanliness, Dmitri got out of the bathtub and dried himself off. Once fully dressed, he poked his head in the other rooms to find his companions. Vlad’s was empty, too, leaving a note that read, “Off to see Lily.” Dmitri laughed and shook his head. Vlad surely wouldn’t be back for a while, if his stories of grand royal affairs and scandalous rendezvous were any indication. 

Dmitri returned to his room and sank onto his bed. The only thought in his mind was Anya. 

As though summoned by his thoughts, the door to his room swung open, revealing Anya. Her face flushed red with excitement as she walked in, absolutely beaming. She opened her mouth, and a stream of words came tumbling out about how amazing Paris was, how every dream she’d had was about to come true, about how lovely the trees were, how kind the people were, how the streets seemed to shine with gold because Dmitri, there’s nowhere else on earth like this! 

She paced around the room, her arms swinging as she poured out her heart. Dmitri watched her with a small, involuntary smile. Eventually, he stopped her to let her know that they did have an appointment with Lily and Vlad, and they should really get a move on. She paused for only a moment, before continuing her ramble as they made their way down the stairs and out of the hotel, occasionally slipping into French. As they neared Lily’s house, however, her chatter slowed, reaching a stop when they faced the front door. Her face paled, and she turned to Dmitri. 

“Dmitri, I’m scared. What if she doesn’t believe me?”

Dmitri’s heart leapt at the sound of his name on her tongue. “She will, princess. If anyone could be Anastasia, it’s you.”

Anya smiled weakly in response, and they went in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is an exciting one ;)


	5. there's nowhere you don't meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya learns something new. Dmitri confesses. Vlad has a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this IS the explicit chapter so if you're not into that just skip the end of the chapter (after crowd of thousands)

“Well, you’ve answered every question I have with flying colors,” Lily declared. Anya grinned. Finally! 

“However…” Lily continued, “the Dowager Countess is no longer accepting visitors.”

Vlad jumped up in protest, but Lily raised a finger. “Her old heart can’t take the pain of seeing these impostors. But,” she paused, “the Russian ballet is in town tomorrow night, and we never miss a performance.” She winked at Vlad. “Now, get on with you! I have lady-in-waiting duties to attend to.”

The trio spilled out onto the street, cheering and congratulating each other. 

“You did it, Anya! I knew you could!” Vlad said, wrapping an arm around Anya and squeezing her tight. 

“You showed her, princess. Guess all that practice finally got through your stubborn head,” Dmitri ribbed, nudging Anya with his elbow. Anya lit up at the touch, her heart racing, but managed to work up a sarcastic scoff nevertheless. 

They all headed back to the hotel, smiles lighting the darkened city. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri couldn’t sleep, he was so excited. Their plan had worked- they’d come this far! And tomorrow Anya would finally know who she was, if her forgotten past truly belonged to the princess Anastasia. 

He pulled his shirt and vest over his head, leaving him in just an undershirt and pants. He threw himself down onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind raced as he thought about Anya in the other room, how she looked when she slept. Probably angelic. It was the one time she wasn’t insulting him, he laughed to himself. 

Just like the first night when he couldn’t get Anya out of his head, a cry burst from the other room. He started up, already halfway out of bed before he had time to process. He wrenched open the door to Anya’s room, searching the darkness for her. 

She sat up on her bed, panting. She looked up at him, terrified eyes shining in the moonlight. He hurried to her side, sitting next to her in an instant and rubbing her back. “Breathe, Anya, breathe,” he instructed. She followed, her shallow breaths coming deeper and deeper. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shuddered slightly, drawing a shivering breath. “It was the same as always. Shapes I couldn’t quite make out, voices whispering for me to remember. People all in white, dancing to some strange music. Gunshots. Blood on snow. They’re all dead. They’re all dead, Dmitri!” Anya rushed out in one breath, her voice heaving with emotion. She turned to him, tears glinting in her eyes. 

“Hey, hey, it’s just a dream. It’s okay. It’s not real. You’re in Paris, you’re safe. Nothing is going to happen to you, not while I’m around.”

Anya smiled weakly. “Thank you, Dmitri.”

Noticing how close he was sitting, Dmitri quickly moved away, sitting a foot away from her on the bed. 

She looked at him as though he hadn’t moved. “Dmitri… do you think I really am Anastasia?”

He considered for a moment. “If I were the Dowager Empress, I would want you to be Anastasia. I’d be proud that my granddaughter grew up to be a strong, beautiful, incredible woman.” 

Anya smiled. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“All that and more, princess.” He couldn’t keep himself from blushing. 

They held each other’s gaze for a second that felt like an eternity. Dmitri quickly turned his head, clasping his hands between his legs. “Do you want to hear about the first time I saw Anastasia?”

Anya smiled. “I’d love to.”

Dmitri cleared his throat. “It was June… I was ten, Anastasia was eight. There was a parade, a procession through the streets. I ran out to see it, to see the youngest daughter in all her glory. She looked so regal, so mature. All I wanted was to get her attention. I ran after her carriage, reaching out to her. And then, just when I thought it was a lost cause, she looked down at me and smiled.”

Anya scooted closer to him. "I feel like I was there.”

“Maybe you were. Make it part of your story.”

Anya cleared her throat, a little sarcastically. “The sun was hot, and the parade seemed to go on forever. There were thousands and thousands of faces in the crowds, they all blurred together. Then, there was this- this kid. He was thin, not that clean-“

Dmitri laughed and nudged her. “Hey!”

Anya grinned and continued. “He was one of thousands, but he ran after the carriage and I couldn’t help but see him. I was supposed to be regal and indifferent, and I tried so hard not to smile. But then-“ Anya’s face changed, her mouth hanging open. “He bowed?”

Dmitri’s eyes widened. "I didn’t- I never told you that!”

Anya looked right into his eyes. “You didn’t have to! I- I remember!”

Dmitri’s head spun. She remembered? Could she really be the princess Anastasia? 

She clutched at his hands. “Dmitri, could I really- could I really be her?”

Dmitri gulped. "I want to believe it.”

Anya leaned closer, tilting her head. her eyes closed slowly. Dmitri’s heart raced. He reached for her cheek and pulled her face closer. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Their lips met, and the world seemed to end. Anya, Anya, Anya, was all he could think. He tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her even closer. Her hand slid to the small of his back, crushing their bodies together. After an eternity, they pulled apart. Anya's face shone red, and he was sure his did too. 

“Dmitri…” Anya gasped, and some switch inside Dmitri flipped. 

“Anya… what does this mean?”

“Dima-“ she gulped. "I think I love you.”

Dmitri’s heart leapt. He couldn’t think straight. “You do?”

She smiled. “Want me to prove it?”

He grinned. "I love you.”

Dmitri wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her to him. He let his teeth drag down her neck, kissing her softly after every bruise he left. She sighed and gasped in response, and the heat inside him grew stronger. He slowly let her down onto her back, and rested his hand on her hip. She gazed up at him with shining eyes full of need, and he dove back in, kissing her with abandon. Anya was the only thing in the world. 

Dmitri let his hand drift to the hem of her nightgown. He looked at her, a question in his eyes. She breathed out a yes, and he slid the dress over her head, leaving her in her underwear. In the dim light, he saw the faint red of her blush. He went back to work, kissing his way down her body, letting one hand hold her thigh and the other trace her breasts, gently squeezing her nipples as she let out a soft moan. 

Once he reached the hem of her underwear, he paused. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, searching her face for an answer. 

“More sure than I’ve ever been,” she said softly, letting her hand rest in his hair. Dmitri grinned. He pulled her underwear over her hips and off her legs, letting it drop on the floor by her nightgown. Anya's legs twisted slightly, nervous and guarded. He looked to her once more for confirmation, and she nodded. He gently pulled her legs apart, gazing at her moonlit form beneath him. God, she was beautiful. 

Dmitri slid his calloused hands along her thighs, watching her shiver with anticipation. He bent his head between her thighs, breathing her in. Draping Anya’s legs over his shoulders, he put his tongue to her. She sighed in response, and he took that as his cue to continue. 

He slid one hand out from under her back, stroking a finger through her wetness as he turned his mouth to kiss her thighs. She breathed out harshly, trying not to make noise. Dmitri’s finger reached her entrance. He glanced up at her. “Is… is this alright?”

Anya nodded, letting her hand fall from his head to clutch at the sheets. He slowly pushed inside her, feeling her tense, and then softly moan as she adjusted. He gently pulled his finger halfway out, then set a rhythm of an easy in and out, and he turned his mouth back to her. He let his tongue explore her length, finding her clitoris and softly sucking. She panted as his ministrations grew quicker, more intense. He slid another finger into her, feeling her insides tense as her soft moans grew louder. 

“D-Dima,” Anya whispered, one hand squeezing the sheets, the other finding Dmitri’s hair again. He let out a sigh as she pulled, and he felt her body slip over the edge. He slid his fingers out of her, and bent to her face to kiss her. Anya looked up at him, smiling gently as she struggled to catch her breath. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once she regained her wits, Anya sat up and pulled Dmitri to her. She kissed him fiercely, tasting herself on his tongue. 

She gently pushed him onto his back and kissed him again. Dmitri was too surprised to respond for a second, then kissed her back even harder. One of her hands slid into his short hair, the other to the hem of his undershirt. He curled his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. 

Anya left his mouth and went to work on his neck, his collarbone, the top of his chest, leaving small marks and Dmitri panting. She tentatively pushed up his undershirt, partially revealing his stomach. He paused for a moment, pulling his shirt over his head. 

Anya forgot how to breathe for a second. 

She let her hands rest on his now-bared stomach as she drank in the sight of his strong arms, his soft breasts, his hard stomach. She bent over him, continuing her path of soft kisses. She worked her way around and over his breasts, smiling to herself every time his breath hitched. Dmitri’s hand rested on her back, a warm reminder. Anya reached the waistband of his trousers and paused. Dmitri sat up and slid them over his hips and down his legs. 

Anya slid off the bed and kneeled in front of him. Surprise flickered over Dmitri’s face, but he slowly widened his legs. Anya pulled her hair back. she placed her hands just below his hips, spreading him wide. She had no clue what she was doing, but she wouldn’t let that stop her. She traced her tongue across him, reveling in the pants she drew out of him. Her tongue explored every part of him, dipping inside and leaving him breathless. Dmitri’s hand clutched her hair as he rocked against her mouth, his body begging for more. She went back in, again and again, working her way up and down, in and out, until he tilted his head back and stifled a moan. 

Anya wiped her mouth, rocking back onto her heels. Dmitri collapsed onto the bed, still panting. She rose from her kneeling position and joined him, curling up next to him and pulling the blanket over them both. 

“So…” Dmitri began. 

Anya grinned at him, her face still flushed. “What now?”

He pushed her hair from her forehead. “Now, we go to sleep and wake up to a world where you become the grand duchess.”

Anya let out a soft laugh and curled closer to him. She let her eyes drift closed. 

She didn’t have a nightmare that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this Was embarrassing to write so like. ur welc i guess


	6. one of us is lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitri makes a mistake. Anya figures it out. Vlad sees something he shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is all ramping up to my favorite scene !! i'm so excited for y'all to read this

A knock at the door woke Dmitri up. 

He looked around, terrified for a split second before he recognized his surroundings. The hotel room, the small brass bed, and- Anya?

She lay next to him, lying on her side with one hand resting on his bare chest. 

Everything came flooding back to him. 

The knocking didn’t stop. Vlad, Dmitri realized. Shit, he won’t like this at all. Dmitri slid out from under Anya, careful not to disturb her, and pulled his undershirt over his head as he hurried to the door. As he opened it, Vlad started talking. 

“Anya, have you seen Dmitri? He’s not in his room, and Lily wanted us to-“ he stopped short at the sight of Dmitri and his state of undress, his voice becoming hostile. “What are you doing in here?”

Dmitri waited a moment as the gears turned in Vlad’s brain. Vlad scowled. “Dmitri, really? You couldn’t wait till all this was over?”

Dmitri reddened. “It’s not like that, Vlad. I didn’t even mean to- she had a nightmare-“

“So you slept with her?” Vlad gave Dmitri a disapproving look. 

“No! No… she was remembering, I think she really is Anastasia! She remembered something that no one else would have known.”

“Wonderful, but that doesn’t change the fact that you-“ Vlad narrowed his eyes and hissed at Dmitri, “slept with her the night before the most crucial part of our plan!”

Dmitri threw up his hands. “Vlad, don’t you see? It’s not about the money anymore. I just want Anya to be happy. Besides, you found Lily again, right? Aren’t you basically set for life?”

Vlad sighed. “It might not be about money for you anymore, but we came all this way for a reason. I don’t want your teenage lust getting in the way of what we’re trying to do.”

Dmitri clenched his teeth. “Vlad, I’m twenty-six. And anyway, I don’t think this will mess up our goal. She’s still the closest anyone has to Anastasia. We’re still going to do this, no matter our relationship.”

Vlad clenched his teeth, then let out a harsh breath. “She’ll break your heart, Dmitri,” he said, his voice a mix of anger and warning. His words sent a chill down Dmitri’s spine. Vlad turned away from Dmitri and closed the door. 

Dmitri ran a hand through his hair in distress. What had he done?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Anya slowly stirred awake, feeling the cold bed beside her. The night came spinning back to her in a rush of heat and skin, and she blushed despite herself. 

But where was Dmitri?

She sat up, suddenly aware of her lack of clothes. Dmitri stood by the door, wearing only a shirt and a frown. Anya colored. 

Her motion caught his attention, and he grinned at her. “It’s a little late to be embarrassed, isn’t it?”

Anya let out a soft laugh and pulled her undergarments on. She stood up and walked over to meet him. Dmitri slid his arms around her back, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. Anya closed her eyes and let the comfort of the motion surround her.

“Vlad came in. He wasn’t very happy about our… situation.”

Anya flushed deeper. “He… saw? he knows?” She wasn’t too fond of the idea of her father figure knowing her sexual history. 

Dmitri laughed bitterly. “Yes… but it’s alright. This won’t affect the ballet tonight, right?”

“Of course not!” Anya exclaimed. "I still can’t believe it’s tonight. Dima, we’re so close.”

Dmitri grinned at her. “We are. It’s tonight, Anya.”

Anya grinned back. “It’s tonight.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri had only just taken his first bath, so it made sense that he’d never worn anything fancier than a vest and pants. A tuxedo felt very unnatural to him. Still, it was the ballet, and they had to dress accordingly. Vlad helped Dmitri button his cuffs and fasten his bow tie with all the fatherly affection he could muster. “We’ve come this far, huh, Dmitri?”

Dmitri grimaced and loosened his collar. “As unlikely as it seems. Where’s Anya?”

Vlad smiled knowingly, and gestured to the top of the stairs. 

Dmitri forgot how to breathe. 

Coming down the staircase, a delicately gloved hand on the railing, a goddess descended, dressed in shimmering blue silk that pulled at the gold in her hair and the feelings in his heart. Her hair was swept into an elegant bun, and every inch of the bare skin on her shoulders glistened with confidence. She was radiant, regal, refined... Royal. 

Anya reached the bottom of the stairs and smiled at Dmitri. Before he could register what he was doing, his knee touched the ground, and his head sunk down. “Your Highness.”

Anya laughed nervously. “Oh, Dmitri, please. Stand up.”

He rose and grinned, taking her arm and note of the color in her cheeks. “You look radiant, princess.”

She reached up to touch her hair. “Thank you, Dima.”

They walked, side by side, into the theater. Dmitri took note of everyone they passed, and all the exits they could take in case of emergency. Anya was distracted by her search for the Dowager Empress. 

Dmitri found their box and ushered Anya into it. Almost directly across the stage from them sat the Empress and Lily. Anya sat very straight and clutched Dmitri’s arm. He took her hand and tried to comfort her, but he could feel her heart beating a thousand miles a minute. Would this turn out the way they planned?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Anya thought her nightmares were bad, they were nothing compared to this. Every tiny snippet of her past that she’d ever remembered flooded her brain at once. The scattered conversations of other people in the audience mixed with the ghostly voices whispering in her ears, and she couldn’t quite tell what was real anymore. Was the Dowager Empress really there? 

The ballet started at some point. Anya didn’t take any notice of it. She was too busy staring across the stage at the box that could hold her past and future, the answer to all her burning questions and the ones she didn’t even know she had. 

The Empress seemed to take notice of Anya. She stared harshly, then turned and whispered to Lily. Lily nodded. 

Anya gripped Dmitri’s arm tighter. What could she be saying? Did she suspect that Anya was another impostor? Did the Empress recognize her after all these years? 

She could never remember having been a particularly religious person, but Anya found herself praying. _Please_ , she thought to whatever deity there might be, _let her recognize me. Let me find my home at last._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri winced at the vise-like grip Anya had on his arm, but he didn’t say anything. He knew this was probably the most nervous she’d ever been. 

Despite the miles they’d walked, the sacrifices they’d made, all the moments they’d shared and lessons they’d learned, Anya’s touch distracted him. Despite the immense gravity of the situation, Dmitri couldn’t help but think of her warm skin on his, of her mouth becoming his universe. 

Anya’s fingers dug further into his arm, snapping him out of his thoughts. _Keep your nerve_ , he thought. _Think of your father. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment. See this through._

The orchestra crescendoed as a figure dressed in dark clothes leapt across the stage. Chills went down Dmitri’s spine. _Something bad is going to happen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u can't tell by the title i love mamma mia also..... thanks for reading mwah


	7. it's never too late to come home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya finds a family. Dmitri loses something. Vlad is skeptical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm literally so excited for this chapter this is my favorite scene...... enjoy!! we're almost at the end

The ballet ended, and Anya had processed none of it. Dmitri leapt out of his seat and ran to the Empress’ box, only to be stopped by Lily. Anya trailed behind him as quickly as her shaking legs would carry her. Her thoughts were static, her brain unable to think. 

Dmitri went into the box. She heard faint arguing. An exclamation from Lily, a protest from Dmitri. Then, a voice emerged, traveling towards Anya on the landing. A voice she recognized from the depths of a memory she didn’t even know she had. It was old and wavering, yet firm and angry.

“Not another impostor, Lily. I know her kind too well. She wants money, and will break an old woman’s heart to get it.”

These words cut through the fog in Anya’s brain. She whirled to face Dmitri. “All you wanted was money? Was I just another pawn in a scheme?” She took a step closer to Dmitri, her head spinning with anger. “Was I stupid to trust you, after you made me feel I was someone that you knew I never could be?” Anya shut her eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I was cold and hungry and desperate when I met you, Dmitri, but I wasn’t dishonest.” 

She took a breath and tried to stop her tears. “I hate you for that,” she said, voice trembling. She picked up the hem of her skirt and ran from the room, eyes finally streaming with an endless river of tears. She had no idea where she was going, but she needed to get as far away from Dmitri as possible.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri almost ran after Anya as she fled the room, but stopped when he heard the Dowager Empress ask coldly, “Is she gone?”

Dmitri spun to face her as she left her box. He bowed slightly, trying to make the best impression he could. “Your Royal Highness-” he began, but she cut him off quickly.

“How dare you address me, young man,” the Empress hissed, looking sharply at Dmitri.

Dmitri squared his shoulders and took a step towards her. “Anya doesn’t want your money. I take full responsibility for bringing her to Paris.” He took a deep breath, and said with full conviction, “I believe with all my heart that she is the Grand Duchess Anastasia.”

The Empress scowled. “I will not stay for this mockery. Lily, get the car.” She began to walk past Dmitri, but he stepped on the train of her gown, stopping her progress. She turned around, shocked. 

“Anya has nothing. No home, no family. She needs your recognition, your love.” His voice began to break with emotion. Everything he felt for Anya, all the moments he’d shared with her over the past few months, every look they’d exchanged, every lingering thought of her that had stayed in his head, they all filled his mind and spilled over, and he couldn’t stop speaking. “Imagine what it must have been like for her. Her mother, her father, her sisters and brother, her whole country, all gone!” Dmitri’s face was flushed with anger, and he took another step towards the Empress.

“I don’t need to imagine the death of my own children,” she said, her face folding like a fan, her eyes twisting in sadness and mouth snarling. “I lost everything that night.”

“So did Anya.” Dmitri inhaled sharply. “She persisted. She survived for a reason! She has to overcome what happened, or Russia will be a wound that never heals!”

The Empress raised her right hand and slapped Dmitri squarely in the cheek. His mouth hung open for a moment, too shocked to move or react.

“That is no longer a concern of mine. Russia has damned itself.” The Empress let out a weak sigh of anger.

Dmitri looked at her, letting his anger simmer before he spoke again. “God will judge you harshly, old woman.” He paused for dramatic effect, his words dripping with venom. “History already has.”

Realizing the immense faux pas he had just committed, he ran from the room to find Vlad.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anya stormed back to the hotel, tears continuing to flood her eyes. She could hear the footsteps of someone following her, but she didn’t look. She wanted nothing to do with Dmitri, or Vlad, or anyone at all.

“Anya, wait!” Dmitri called from the doorway as Anya frantically began packing. She continued without acknowledging him, even when she heard Vlad run up to the door.

“Where will you go?” he asked, stepping closer. She spun, her face contorted in anger. 

“Anywhere that’s far from you.”

“Anya…” Vlad began, stepping towards her and opening his arms.

“You.” Anya scowled, turning her rage on him. “No wonder you were dismissed from court.”

She turned away from them, trying to keep the tears in her eyes from falling again. She continued picking up her few belongings, angry thoughts swirling in her mind. Anya paid no mind to the doors opening behind her, the hurrying footsteps, or hasty whispers.

Still not facing them, Anya continued her rant. “I always admired the way you were proud of who you were despite your circumstances, Dmitri, and you taught me to be the same. I can’t believe I trusted you.” Her voice began to rise with overwhelming emotion. “Everything you taught me- Russian history-” she laughed bitterly, finally turning around. “Save it for your next Ana-” 

She stopped short when she saw the Dowager Empress standing before her.

Anya bowed hurriedly. “Your Royal Highness.”

The Empress looked at her disapprovingly. “I think history demands we see this through.”

Anya hurried to her, pulling up a chair. “Please, be seated-”

The Empress cut her off. “There’s no need. I won’t be long.”

Anya’s heart dropped into her stomach. Would she not even give her a chance? 

The Empress paused for an endless second before shattering the heavy silence.

“Who are you?”

The Empress’ question, stated so simply and firmly, brought every question Anya had been asking for months, years, to a halt. It was the one question about Anastasia that she couldn’t answer. Despite everything that had happened, everything she’d recovered in the past few months, she still didn’t know. 

Taking a deep breath, Anya began, “I am the daughter of-”

“Oh, spare me my own history!” the Empress cut in. “It’s everywhere, anyone can read it.”

Anya’s doubt grew. “I didn’t think you’d be so rude,” she said, disappointment creeping into her voice.

“I’m old and impatient,” the Empress said. “Kindness is a luxury.”

Anya’s head spun. Her hands clutched at her heart. “My Nana was the most loving woman imaginable,” she said, her voice heavy with the weight of emotion. 

The Empress grimaced. “That was before they murdered everyone I loved!”

Anya took a step toward her, still lost in her memories. “She smelled like oranges, a special perfume from Sicily.” Without thinking, she began to sink onto the chair.

“How dare you sit without my permission!” the Empress cried, and Anya leapt out of the seat.

The Empress took a few steps to the chair, her gait regal even in her old age. She took a deep breath and sighed. “You may sit,” she said, and they both took a seat.

Anya looked at her uneasily, waiting for her to speak again. The Empress smoothed out her skirts, then turned to Anya. She looked Anya up and down, examining her for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she spoke. 

“Who was my favorite lady in waiting?” she asked, her tone harsh and without feeling.

“You didn’t have one, you kept dismissing them,” Anya said, fondly though barely able to keep her voice from shaking.

The Empress turned back to her, staring at her again. “I’m trying to see the resemblance.” She pulled away. “I don’t trust my eyes.”

Without thinking, Anya blurted, “You should wear spectacles- I’m sorry!”

The Empress did not respond. She began her questioning again, but Anya couldn’t help herself. 

“Why don’t you want me to be her?”

“You ‘Anastasias’ always disappoint me,” she said, her tone cold with the gravity of experience.

“Why won’t you give me a chance?” Anya asked, pleading. “I might not.”

The Empress pursed her lips, then leaned towards Anya as though she were telling a secret. “I don’t believe Anastasia exists,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

Recognition flickered in Anya’s mind. “You don’t want to believe it,” she said slowly.

The Empress again took no notice. “What was your mother’s full title?” she asked, as though she were conducting an exam.

A memory flooded Anya’s mind. A warm, loving embrace, a soft voice, dark brown hair always braided neatly, smooth hands that would wipe away her tears. The Empress began reciting the title, but Anya couldn’t hear her. “She was Mama!” Anya blurted out, her tears finally winning. “She was Mama to all of us.” A small boy, scooped up in the strong arms of someone she couldn’t quite see clearly. 

The Empress scoffed. “You Anastasias all start crying at some point.” She leaned closer. “Tears will get you nowhere.”

Anya looked away, ashamed of herself. “Why did you come here?”

“Your young man told me you weren’t part of his scheme,” the Empress said, looking away from Anya. 

Anya lifted her head to look at her. “He’s right,” she said, “I wasn’t!” Was the Empress really giving her a chance?

“He truly believes you may be my granddaughter,” the Empress said incredulously. She turned to Anya once more. “He says you’ve really come to believe it yourself,” she accused.

Anya’s heart swelled. “I do believe it, with all my heart!” She looked into the Empress’ eyes, imploring her. “But I can’t be her unless you recognize me!”

The Empress looked skeptical. “You can’t be anyone unless you first recognize yourself!”

Tears rushed out of Anya’s eyes again. “I know,” she choked out.

The Empress sat for a moment, considering. She looked out the window, at the glittering view of Paris. 

“Do you know what it’s like… to lose everything? My son, his wife, my grandchildren, my country, everything I loved. All in a single, terrible night. And for what?” the Empress paused, on the verge of tears herself. “The good of Russia?” She looked down, hiding her face. 

After a moment, she looked up. Anya’s thoughts were a swirling mess of memories all coming back at once. 

“I’ll ask you one last time, young woman.” The Empress hardened her face. “Be very careful how you answer.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Who are you?”

All the confusion and emotion and loss in Anya crashed into a giant wave, leaving her unable to speak. Her face crumpled, and she tried her best to hold herself together. 

“I don’t know anymore,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Who are you?”

The Empress looked away. “An old woman who remembers everything the way it should have been, and not the way it was.” She paused. “I am unreliable. I am a historian of the heart.”

The Empress wrung her hands, exclaiming, “I want this fearful journey to be over!”

Anya reached out to comfort her. Then, she remembered. Dmitri on the bridge in Petersburg. The music box that brought so much flooding back. She rose from the seat, and asked, “do you remember the last time you saw Anastasia?”

The Empress looked at her despairingly. “I didn’t know it was the last time!”

Anya remembered.

“You were leaving for Paris!” she said, her heart racing. “You never came back.”

Anya walked over the bag where she kept the music box. “You gave her a music box. I believe this was it,” she said, holding it out to the Empress, her hand shaking.

She turned the gear on the bottom, and it popped open. The Empress gave a gasp of recognition as the music began to play. 

The lullaby that Nana had always sung to her came rushing back. She looked at the Empress, and she was crying as well. They began to sing, together, as they had so many years ago, their hands entwined around the box. 

“Anastasia!” the Empress - Nana - cried, and she threw her arms around Anya.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dmitri thought he knew how Anya might have felt during the ballet. He couldn’t stop pacing and writing his hands, trying his best to keep the panic at bay. 

“Dmitri, stop that. you’re only making me more nervous,” Vlad scolded from where he sat. 

"I can’t! I need to know what they’re saying, how it’s going. God! They’re taking so long!” 

“Why are you so worried? it’s not like you.” Vlad said, one eyebrow raised. 

"I thought this plan was foolproof- nothing is foolproof!” Dmitri said exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air. 

Vlad smiled slowly. "I think I know what it is.”

Dmitri spun on his heel and scowled. “What?”

“You’re in love,” Vlad singsonged, “and you’re worried she won’t have you.”

Dmitri deflated, all the air leaving his lungs. He sank to the floor, head falling between his knees.   
“Vlad, she hates me! What if this was all a mistake?”

"I wouldn’t worry about that. I think she’ll realize what you did soon enough.”

“Just that I didn’t take the reward? But that doesn’t make up for the months of lying and manipulating, especially not since- since-“ he trailed off, face flushing even as tears welled in his eyes. 

“Since last night?” Vlad asked, a quirk to his voice. 

“Yes! Ok, I admit, it was a mistake. I just… I didn’t think it through, and…” Dmitri angrily wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up. “Vlad, I think I love her.”

Vlad smiled knowingly. “Finally, you admit it.”

“What do you mean, ‘finally’?” Dmitri asked, crossing his arms. 

"I mean, Dmitri, you’ve been in love with her since that first night she snuck into the castle and every exasperated, annoyed second since.”

“Ok, sure.” Dmitri turned away from Vlad. “But what do I do now?”

“Try and survive. Anya would be hell on any man who loved her.”

“Good thing I’m not a man.”

Vlad grinned, but Dmitri didn’t feel the same. 

“And that’s the problem,” Dmitri said, deepening his scowl. 

“What do you mean?” Vlad asked, his smile dropping. 

“I’m not… a man. And she’s a girl. Not to mention a princess. It would never work.” 

“For god’s sake, Dmitri, this isn’t Russia! We’re in Paris! The city of love! If it would work anywhere, it would work here!”

“And she hates me! It’s useless.” Dmitri walked to the door. 

Vlad jumped up and grabbed his arm. “Just wait till they’re done talking, please.”

Dmitri shook him off. “I’m done waiting.” He grabbed his coat and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading y'all!! the next chapter should be up soon
> 
> find me on the tumbles @faintlight


	8. it's better to forget me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya figures it out. Dmitri does too. Vlad is upset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second to last chapter!!! i hope yall like it !!!

Anya struggled to take a deep breath. Her giant red dress was gorgeous, sure, and seemed to accentuate her every curve. Her hair was pinned in an elaborate updo, topped with a gold tiara. She still couldn’t quite believe it herself. 

“Anastasia, are you ready?” Lily called. Anya was supposed to meet with the press, and answer all their questions. Everyone was dying to hear about the newfound Princess Anastasia, despite it only having been a day. 

Anya pulled up her long white gloves and turned to the door. It opened before she reached it, revealing her grandmother who smiled at Anya. 

“It’s nearly time, dear,” she said warmly.

Anya smiled back. “I’m ready, Nana,” she responded. 

The Empress squeezed Anya’s arm affectionately. 

“Now… where’s your young man?” she asked, smiling.

“He’s not my _young man _, Nana,” Anya said, looking away.__

__“If it’s not plain to you that he loves you-” the Empress continued, but Anya cut her off._ _

__“He’s not my young man,” she said, choking back tears._ _

__The Empress looked at her questioningly. “When he refused the reward, I thought to myself, Anastasia has found herself another kind of prince- one of character, not of birth.”_ _

__Anya’s eyes grew wide. “Dmitri refused the reward?”_ _

__“You are Anastasia,” the Empress said firmly, “He said that was his reward.”_ _

__Anya’s mind reeled, and the tears that had sprung to her eyes earlier threatened to spill over._ _

__The Empress crossed the room to take Anya’s hands. “You’ve made this the happiest day of my life. Make sure it is for you as well,” she said as she squeezed Anya’s arm affectionately, and she left the room._ _

__Anya smiled after her, but she wasn’t thinking about the reporters downstairs._ _

__She was thinking about Dmitri, and how badly she’d messed this all up. How much he meant every word he said to her, how she needed to fix this… He mattered more to her right now than any press conference._ _

__Anya looked at her now-regal reflection in the mirror. What is Dima going to think? she wondered in despair. Sighing, she turned to leave._ _

__A heavy footfall broke her concentration._ _

__A sigh._ _

__“Hello, Anya,” a familiar voice said coldly._ _

__Gleb!_ _

__She turned to face him. Gleb stood in the doorway, dressed in a plain suit and a scowl. Anya trembled. There was no hiding now._ _

__“You escaped me once, Anya. Not this time.” Gleb’s face hardened. His voice was full of malice._ _

__“What do you want, Gleb?” Anya couldn’t hide the fear in her voice. There was only one reason he could be here._ _

__“Paris is no place for a good and loyal Russian,” Gleb said, looking Anya directly in the eye._ _

__Anya lifted her chin to mask the tears once again welling in her eyes. “We are both good and loyal Russians. Why are you here, Gleb?”_ _

__“Stop playing this game, Anya, I beg you!” Gleb exclaimed. He seemed less angry, like he was losing his nerve._ _

__“It’s not a game anymore, Gleb,” Anya said softly, gesturing to her gown._ _

__Gleb gritted his teeth. “If you really are Anastasia, do you think history wants you to have lived?”_ _

__“Yes! Why don’t you?” Anya's voice rose, threatening to break._ _

__“The Romanovs were given everything, and gave back nothing. So the Russian people rose up and destroyed them!” Gleb spat, his face a picture of disgust._ _

__Anya took a step towards him. “All but one. Finish it.” She took another step forward. “I am my father’s daughter,” she declared, her voice a mask of defiance._ _

__Gleb laughed bitterly. “And I am my father’s son. Finish it I must.” He drew a pistol from his coat, cocking it and pointing it at Anya._ _

__Anya tried her best to keep her face still. Her mind raced. This wasn’t the first time she’d been face to face with death. Staring him straight in his eyes, the same Vaganov eyes that had glared at her all those years ago. She had trembled before death then, but now she spat in his face. Anya never thought it would come to this, from the strange officer who had stopped her on the street to the man who brought back every bloodstained memory hidden in the depths of her wounded mind._ _

__Gleb gritted his teeth, and Anya could see the gun was shaking in his hand. He looked like her was waging some kind of internal war, but she had nothing to say to defend herself. This was in history’s hands now._ _

__“I have to do my duty, Anya,” Gleb said, his voice pitching, his eyes barely open. “I have to bury the past.” His finger twitched on the trigger. Anya flinched and shut her eyes. If she was about to die, she didn’t want the last thing she saw to be Gleb._ _

__Anya thought of her parents, her sisters, her little brother. _I’ll see them soon _, she thought. Unbidden, Dmitri appeared in her mind. _I’m sorry the last thing I told you was that I hate you. ___ ____

__

__

__She heard a click, and opened her eyes._ _

__Gleb had sunk to his knees, clutching the pistol between his sweating palms. Tears streamed from his eyes. “Anya… I can’t do it.”_ _

__Anya crossed the short space between them, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. They were both trembling. “It’s all right, Gleb. It’s over. You don’t need to fight it anymore.”_ _

__He looked up at her, eyes shining. “I should hate you, Anya. I hate everything you come from, everything you and your family stand for. I should hate everything you are.” He swallowed. “But I just can’t.”_ _

__She smiled softly, tears beginning to spill from her eyes as well. “Go home, Gleb.”_ _

__He got to his feet, and with one last tortured glance at her, left the room._ _

__\-------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

__Dmitri clutched his train ticket in his shaking hand. He sat on his suitcase, hastily packed as Vlad scowled at him and told him not to go. Where would he go, what would he do? Dmitri had no idea, but he managed to make something of himself in Petersburg. Why would London, or Warsaw, or Rome be any different?_ _

__His mind raced. Everything had come true exactly how he’d planned it, except there was so much he hadn’t planned for. Namely, falling in love with Anya. That really threw a wrench in his plan to get rich, huh?_ _

__A whistle blew from off in the distance, and Dmitri could see the train approaching. He stood up and picked up his suitcase._ _

__“Dima!” A voice called, out of breath._ _

__He turned around, only to see Anya running towards him in her giant red dress. It was almost comical, except there was nothing funny about this situation. Why was she here? Didn’t she hate him?_ _

__Dmitri looked away. “If you ever see me again, don’t wave, don’t smile.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be in love with someone I can never have,” his voice began to break, “for the rest of my life.”_ _

__He stood up from his suitcase. “Goodbye.” He bowed, mirroring the first time he’d seen her, overcome by her regal beauty all those years ago. He fought to keep his tears at bay, the memory overtaking him. “Your Majesty.” He picked up his suitcase, and tightened his grip on the handle as he began walking away from her._ _

__“I always dreamed my first kiss would be in Paris with a handsome prince,” Anya called from behind him, her voice pleading._ _

__Dmitri laughed sadly as he turned to face her. “I’m not your prince, Anya.”_ _

__Suddenly, Anya closed the distance between them in what seemed like no time at all. She grabbed the suitcase from Dmitri’s hand, laid it on the ground, and climbed onto it to reach his face. “The Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov would beg to disagree,” she said defiantly, before pulling his face to hers and kissing him sweetly, desperately._ _

__Dmitri was so surprised, he didn’t know how to respond for a second. Then, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He wanted to keep the feeling of her soft lips against his own for as long as possible._ _

__After an eternity, Anya pulled away for a breath. Dmitri grinned at her, and swung her around in a display of joy. Setting her on the ground, he asked, “What happened to hating me?”_ _

__Anya lightly hit his arm in annoyance. “Nana told me that you refused the money. I guess you’re not as much of a scoundrel as I thought you were,” she said teasingly._ _

__“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, Princess,” Dmitri said, smiling mischievously. She laughed, and clung to his arm._ _

__“So now what?” Anya asked, looking up at him._ _

__Dmitri took her hand. “Now we move on to another city, to swindle unsuspecting folks out of their hard-earned money.”_ _

__Anya laughed and nudged him. “The usual?”_ _

__He cupped her cheek and pulled her into another kiss. It was just as sweet, just as loving as the first time. When she pulled away, he looked into her eyes. He could see the sun rise and set in her face, the world turn and the days pass. Dmitri knew she would be there, her eyes gazing into his with adoration. Anya tilted her forehead to meet his, and smiled. She would be there, again and again._ _

__\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

__

__Anya smiled at Dima, her eyes shining with tears of joy and her heart beating out of her chest. It didn’t matter to her that he wasn’t a prince, or a man, or any of that. She couldn’t imagine loving Dmitri for anything less than who he was._ _

__She turned her gaze to the sun setting on the Seine, and she couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than how her life had turned out._ _

__Dmitri squeezed Anya’s hand and said softly, his eyes full of joy, “Do you think it’s too late for us?”_ _

__Anya squeezed his hand back. “It’s never too late to come home.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just the epilogue left!! we're almost there :)
> 
> find me on tumblr @faintlight


	9. i'll be there when the world stops turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anya and dima surprise each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter!! sorry for the delay but i'm so glad to finally be sharing this with y'all

Anya pushed the cottage door closed with her hip, struggling to balance the heavy load of laundry she was carrying through the doorway. Ducking under the low beam in the foyer, she walked gracefully through the halls of the house as though she were promenading around a ballroom, not finishing up chores in an old farmhouse. 

She reached the bedroom and dropped the laundry onto her bed, then took a moment to push back the damp hair from her eyes. Upstairs, a door shut, and she could hear the quick procession of footsteps down the staircase and into the kitchen next door. Smiling, Anya left the bedroom and entered the kitchen, spotting Dmitri hurriedly washing his hands in the sink. Upon hearing her soft footfalls, he turned around and grinned at her. 

“Hey, princess,” he said, his voice warm with ten years of affection. 

Anya walked over to him and kissed his cheek. “What are you up to, Dima?”

Dmitri dried his hands and pulled Anya into a gentle hug. “Don’t you worry about that,” he said, an air of mischief creeping into his voice. 

Anya pulled back, her hands falling to his waist. “Oh really?” she responded with an equally mischievous smile. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with tomorrow being our tenth anniversary, now would it?”

Dmitri laced his fingers with hers. “Absolutely not, and on a completely different note, you shouldn’t go into the back garden, no reason at all, don’t worry about it,” he trailed off, deepening his grin. Anya laughed lightly, pulling him toward her for a kiss. He scooped her up so she wouldn’t have to stand on her toes, and she curled her arms around his neck. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anya’s lips were just as soft as the first time they’d kissed, all those years ago in Paris. Though her arms had grown stronger, her gait more confident, and her eyes brighter, the softness and youth in her smile had stayed the same. Her joy and radiance sustained Dmitri, as his solidity and firm love had upheld her. 

After a while, Dmitri put Anya down and pushed her hair back from her eyes. Her bangs always got in her way, but she never tied them up because Dmitri was always there to push them away. 

Anya lifted his calloused hand to her lips and kissed it, smiling up at him. “I have other chores to finish, can you get dinner started?” she asked, her voice tender with the honey of routine.

Dmitri bowed, and she laughed. With one last squeeze of his hand, she left the room. Dmitri walked to the cellar door at the edge of the kitchen and opened it, looking for something to prepare. His mind was otherwise occupied by his surprise for his wife. 

He’d spent the last weeks or so preparing a gift for their tenth anniversary- a rose trellis with a bench. It was a little rough around the edges, but he’d made it with love. Besides, she’d love whatever he gave her, tearing up at the simplest display of affection. Dmitri smiled at that thought.

As he busied himself making dinner, he couldn’t help smile when he looked around at the home they’d made. Every inch of their small cottage in the French countryside beat with the rhythm of their combined hearts, glowing with devotion and unconditional affection. It was impossible to not feel the overflowing love they’d poured into their home. 

Soon enough, the kitchen was lively with whistling pots and rising steam. Dmitri sang softly to himself as he cooked, an old Russian folk song rising to his lips. As he washed his hands, he heard a door shut softly upstairs and the patter of footsteps. What could Anya be doing?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Anya yanked the wrench down with a final twist. She’d had no idea how plumbing worked, but she’d been writing letters back and forth with Vlad so she could craft Dmitri’s gift: a working bathtub. Anya couldn’t wait to see the beam on his face when she showed him.

She could hear Dima making dinner downstairs, and she smiled at the thought of his soft singing and careful hands. She still couldn’t believe she got to spend her life with him, in this cozy farmhouse that burst with joy. 

Smiling at the thought, Anya sat back on her heels and admired her work. It looked good to her, but it all came down to whether it worked or not. She stood up and reached for the knob. Holding her breath, she turned it, and-

Let out a sigh of relief when water rushed into the tub. Anya grinned at her handiwork. She couldn’t wait to show Dmitri.

 

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Dmitri smiled as he heard Anya’s soft footsteps approach the kitchen. She padded over to where he stood at the counter and slid her arms around his waist, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Her arms were warm, her hands soft, her weight comfortable and familiar around him. 

“What have you been up to, princess?” Dmitri said softly, unable to stop his mouth from curling into a grin as Anya leaned her head against his back.

“You’ll see,” Anya replied, an air of mischief creeping into her voice. Dmitri felt her smile against him and let out a small laugh. 

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, turning to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Anya smiled in return and released him, helping him set food on the table. As they began to eat, thunder rumbled in the distance, warning of an impending storm.

The evening passed quickly, Anya’s foot touching his under their dinner table, her arm bumping his while they washed dishes together, her small form curling into him as they settled into bed. Dmitri laid his arm over her, pulling her close under the covers as the rain began to pour. They drifted off into a comfortable and loving night, the rhythm of rain on their roof lulling them to sleep.

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Anya sat up in her and Dmitri’s bed, only it wasn’t their bed. She blinked several times, trying to recognize her unfamiliar surroundings. Anya sat in confusion for a minute, until she realized where she was. The hotel in Paris where all this had started. 

The second she made the connection, figures began appearing around her. A woman in a regal white dress, a man in a white military uniform. Three girls in large white dresses. A small boy. My family, Anya realized. She used to have similar dreams every night for years, but this was the first time since she and Dmitri had moved into this house. 

The dream continued just as she remembered, her sisters and brother and mother and father circling her and calling her name. Her little brother falling down, only for her mother to scoop him up. 

This used to terrify me, Anya thought. These ghosts had haunted the back of her mind, but now they held a place in her heart. She knew each of these faces, each of these people. She loved them.

Which was what made what happened next even more painful. 

Shots rang out, like they always did. Her family fell over, one by one by one by one. Bright crimson blood pooled around each of their still white bodies. Anya shook with terror on the brass hotel bed. She balled her hands into fists and clutched the hem of her nightgown. Tears streamed down her face, splashing into her lap like a thunderstorm. 

The door opened. 

Dmitri burst through, in the same underclothes as that fateful night. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Anya opened her eyes again. Dmitri- the real Dmitri- was clutching her shoulders, trying to shake her awake. 

“Anya? Are you alright?” his voice was filled with concern, his eyes terrified. This hadn’t happened in years. 

Anya blinked once, twice, to make sure this wasn’t a dream as well. She noticed the tears streaming from her eyes and quickly swept them away. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her tears doubled, tripled, until she shook uncontrollably in Dmitri’s arms. He held her tight, stroking her back and whispering softly to her. 

After a few minutes, the hurricane sweeping through her lessened to a summer rainstorm. Anya breathed deeply, pulling herself together as best she could. Lightning struck outside, illuminating Dmitri’s worried face. “Another dream?” he asked, his eyes searching her face for recognition. She nodded, still unable to speak. He pulled her close again, and Anya knew he could feel her heart pounding. 

Dmitri slowly laid her back into bed, tilting his forehead to touch her. His fingers ran through her hair. Anya gazed into his eyes, a loving peace descending on them. 

Just as Anya began to fall asleep, thunder rumbled outside. Her eyes popped open. Dmitri lay beside her, looking at her lovingly. She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him gently. His hand ran down her back, resting at the base of her spine as he drew her closer. Anya laid a hand on his cheek and kissed him again, deeper this time.

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Dmitri slid his hand to Anya’s chest, feeling her heartbeat quicken. He smiled into her, letting her take the lead. When she finally let up for air, he grinned at her. Anya smiled back, and slid her hands under his shirt. Slowly, almost lazily, they let their bodies intertwine, heat building between them. Even ten years later, Anya’s sighs and moans were the sweetest sounds Dmitri had ever heard. They fit each other perfectly, attuned to the rhythm between them. 

Eventually, they both slipped into sleep, their hands clasped. Dmitri didn’t usually dream, but tonight his mind filled with sepia images of Anya in the years to come. Holding her hand as they walked through their fields, watching her pull weeds from their garden, smiling over her sleeping form in their bed.   
When the sun forced him to open his eyes, Dmitri woke feeling contented, his heart full of sunlight and wind. He turned to look at Anya, who still lay asleep under the covers. He bent to kiss her forehead, hoping to communicate the honeyed energy of his dreams. She opened her eyes. 

“Morning, Dima,” she said, her voice soft and crackly with the dawn. She sat up to return his kiss, and he pulled her close. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, which had curled in the dampness after the storm. 

“I have a surprise for you, Princess,” Dmitri said softly, watching Anya’s eyebrows raise. “Come outside and I’ll show you.” 

Anya smiled. Dmitri took her hand and pulled her out of bed. Deciding that simply holding her hand would not be romantic enough, he swept her off her feet into a bridal carry. She let out a small squeal of surprise, then laid her head against Dmitri’s chest and laughed. He carried her down the stairs and to the back garden. When they reached the door that led outside, Dmitri set Anya down carefully. “Close your eyes,” he said softly. “I want this to be a surprise.”

Anya complied, and Dmitri felt himself pulled back to all those years ago, the first time she’d shown him her unfailing trust. He grinned and grabbed her hand, leading her to the rose arbor.

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Anya clutched Dima’s hand, letting him guide her through the garden. 

“Okay, open.”

Anya slowly opened her eyes, and gasped. Before her stood a beautiful brass arbor, with twisting vines of pink and white roses covering the rounded metal. Each flower glistened with morning dew, giving the structure an otherworldly feel as the brass reflected the sunrise. Anya’s eyes began to well with tears, and she turned to Dmitri. Wrapping her arms around him, she lifted him off the ground and spun, the same joyful gesture he’d performed on her many times before. Dmitri chuckled. 

Anya set him down, and stretched up to kiss him. “Thank you, Dima,” she said, her voice barely audible as she fought back tears. 

“Anything for my princess,” he replied, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her close.

They gazed at Dmitri’s creation for a few more moments, and Anya could hardly breathe with the joy welling up in her. She loved her wife so much. 

Anya squeezed Dmitri’s hand, and looked up at him. “I have a surprise, too,” she said, and pulled him toward the house. 

They walked upstairs. Once they reached the bathroom door, Anya paused. “Close your eyes,” she said, unable to hide her excitement. Dmitri did, and Anya slowly pushed the door open.

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Dmitri was five again.

He was sitting on the cold pavement outside a hotel, waiting for his father. A freezing wind rattled down the street, and Dmitri pulled his thin coat closer. Warmth was hard to find in Petersburg, but his father had sworn that he had found a way for them to stay in a real room for the night- with a bath!, he’d added, eyes sparkling. Dmitri smiled at the thought, but an imaginary bath didn’t help his freezing, tiny body. 

After an eternity of waiting, Dmitri’s father arrived. He apologized to Dmitri for making him wait, and pulled a shining key from inside his coat. He winked at Dmitri, and slowly unlocked the back door of the hotel. 

The two of them snuck inside, silently climbing the stairs until Dmitri’s father found the room he was looking for. No one would bother them there, he assured Dmitri, and pushed open the bathroom door.

Dmitri’s eyes had lit up then the same way they lit up now.

Inside the bathroom of their small cottage was a shining porcelain tub, complete with gold claw feet and a polished spigot. Dmitri pulled Anya close. He tried to express his gratitude, but a thirty year old lump in his throat wouldn’t let him. 

“Anya,” he finally breathed, “thank you.” He looked at her, eyes shining, and the beaming smile she responded with nearly blinded him. God, he was so in love, so happy. If angels existed, his wife was surely one of them.

Once Dmitri had recovered, he squeezed Anya’s hand again and they headed downstairs. 

They continued with their day, and with their lives, as two parts of a whole. Every storm they weathered together made their roses grow, and every crashing tidal wave filled their porcelain tub. Every year that passed strengthened their love, like two trees intertwining, growing together until two become one. Their lives flowed together as one beautiful river, a wonderful journey. All their years of searching and hoping had culminated in an unbreakable bond. With every new adventure, they stood together at the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for your support!! i'm definitely gonna be writing more anastasia in the future :) find me on twitter @lesbianastasia

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all liked it! the next chapter should be up soon :)


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